His Wife Calls The Shots
Chapter 1150: I Promise You, We’ll Break Up_1

Chapter 1150: Chapter 1150: I Promise You, We’ll Break Up_1

Chapter 1150

The man had had her by his side for a long time without saying any crucial words.

Charles Carrington was tall. The vines overhead hung low, partially masking his sightline.

Through the gaps in the foliage, he silently observed the girl in front of him for a long moment without uttering a single word.

"If you don’t speak, I’m leaving."

Layla Lowell turned her back to him.

"I want to know, what exactly are you concerned about?"

The calm male voice radiated a heavy steadiness, revealing a seriousness that was absent when he was jesting with his colleagues.

He was quite serious indeed.

Layla didn’t look back, but her steps came to an abrupt halt. Her gaze fixed on the mottled moonlight on the ground, her mind blank.

"Asking what you already know."

Her voice was somewhat suppressive.

The tenacity in her tone left the man impotent, a craving for nicotine gradually creeping up on him. He absent-mindedly reached out for a smoke before letting go, seemingly remembering something.

He leaned comfortably against the slightly cool stone pillar, furrowing his brows as he spoke, "It’s merely normal social interaction. You have been reading too much into it."

Upon hearing this anticipated response, Layla didn’t feel as calm as she thought she would. A sense of anger was silently kindled within her, burning fiercely in the shadows of her heart.

At some point, she clenched her fists and turned to glare at him, "You think I’m reading too much into it? Ask any girl how she feels when her boyfriend is always surrounded by a flock of women—not occasionally but every day. He drinks the wine passed to him by other women, smiles at them, even takes the initiative to send them home,"

"Normal social interaction," he emphasized again.

"Is this your definition of social interaction? Don’t you know that it pisses me off?" She suddenly lost control and burst out shouting.

Coming face to face with his astonished gaze, her mouth went dry, her body tense.

She took a deep breath and crouched down, cradling her head in silence.

"Fishie." Charles Carrington crouched down too, his voice softening.

He tried to touch her hand, only to be dismissed.

Layla pouted, her eyes accusing him. A few seconds later, she pressed her lips together, do so seemed to slightly calm her down.

After a while, she calmly spoke, "Unless you can change, there’s nothing to discuss."

Charles Carrington looked at her in silence.

She slowly raised her head, meeting his gaze, finding his eyes increasingly difficult to understand.

"You knew what kind of person I was when we met," he said.

Layla’s lips moved slightly, feeling a surge of urgency rising in her heart.

She didn’t know how to react.

Grinding her molars, she said, "So, you mean to continue like this, ambiguous with other women?"

The man sighed, furrowing his brows, "I don’t want to explain the same thing over and over."

She froze, staring at him.

His gaze flitted between depths, as if contemplating something.

Her heart suddenly tightened.

She had a faint feeling that the volatile thread which held them together for so long was about to break completely.

Her eyes flickered brightly.

Charles Carrington lifted his lips into a comforting smile.

He suddenly reached out to tap her head, slowly uttering, "Okay, I agree. Let’s break up."

In that instant, he turned away, missing the pale terror that washed over her face.

As he stood up, he didn’t look back, his voice falling behind him, "It’s cold outside. Go home and sleep early."

His footsteps gradually faded.

Layla sat on the ground in a daze, her eyes flickering in contemplation.

The chill wind swept in. She sat on the ground motionless.

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